No problems on the flight out. We arrive in Vegas and are met by my folks. Say - it's only 3:00! Time to climb!! Marti, Alastair, and I make a run for the Red Rocks. No wimpy sport climbing - gotta do a real route: Dark Shadows fills the bill. Hike takes a while but we're ready to climb by 5. It's hot but anything in the shade is fine for climbing. A party is rapping while we climb but they are cool and all goes well. We rap after the first 4 pitches and hike out in the dark. Big fun! Alastair is impressed.
Next day, the grandparents (and my brother, Alan) take the kids again. We plan to meet in JTree that evening. Slow start (breakfast at a casino) but we're waiting for the shade to hit the rocks. The three climbers head to Black Velvet for major fun. The plan is Refried Brains (5.9) - one of the less popular routes in Black Velvet. The hike is hot but the route has just gone into the shade. We see folks high on Epinephrine - bet they had a long hot hike down! RB is mostly natural pro - very few bolts except near the top. We're immediately suprised to find a nice, shiny bolt starting the first pitch. Cool! Someone has almost completely rebolted the climb - especially nice rap anchors leading down. Anyway, the first pitch is definitely up to Black Velvet quality and leads to a nice stance. Alastair takes the second. We're not too sure of the line but he follows the chalk. About halfway up, he seems to be too far left and we tell him to traverse right. He does and this is turns out to be the crux of the pitch. Actually he could have continued on his original line but the topo was hard to follow and we couldn't see much from below. Either way, the pitch was a nice one and ends just before a traverse right past another new rap anchor. The next pitch is the crux - a LONG crack with a couple of wide sections. Sustained around 5.7 - 5.8 with a few harder cruxes. Didn't need much wide gear (the offwidth parts were short and out on the face). The topo showed two pitches here, but one was all it took. Really nice! It was getting late; Alastair took an easy pitch leading to the last 5.9 bit - a short bolt ladder. He wanted to combine this with the 5.9 pitch, but the rope drag stopped him. I came up and he pushed on to where the book recomends retreat (the last pitches looked easy but the descent would have been bad. The light is fading and Marti offers to save time by skipping the last pitch. No way - we tell her she's got to officially bag the whole thing and soon we're all ready to rap down. Four long raps and we're down just as total darkness sets in. No flashlights but the way back is pretty easy to spot. Unfortunately, we miss the place where the trail leaves the stream but everything works out OK. Marti uses this trip to convince Alastair to always take a light when climbing with me (hmm - but why didn't she bring one?!?). We finally roll into Vegas around 10:30, eat, and head for JTree. The drive is long and we finally hit JTree after 3am. The kids are sleeping on the motel floor so we head to Hidden Valley and set up camp without them. We're in bed by 4am.
We arise as soon as the sun hits the tent, making it unbearably hot inside. The family will join us for breakfast soon; meanwhile it's time to climb! We're right in the middle of it - Hidden Valley campground. Just around the corner is Double Cross - we can watch the road and climb at the same time. I lead - feels hard! Sandbag! Sandbag! Alastair has a really hard time - they need more hand cracks in Scotland I guess. While he's suffering, the gang arrives and Marti sneaks off to avoid hand damage.
After breakfast I try to get Eric excited about climbing. He eventually is persuaded and we head for Walk on the Wild Side. Unfortunately, the sun is just starting to hit the climb so we start to hurry before it gets really hot. Eric goes last and whines the whole way up about the flies. Still, he's doing really well on the climbing and makes it without any serious problems. He thinks the cave at the belay is cool and hides while Alastair leads the next pitch. Eric has had enough so I tell him to hang out in the hole till we rap by. We decide to stretch the first rap to a stance just left of Eric's hole. Unfortunately, this requires some hairy stuff since this is right at the very end on the rope. Eric bravely swings over to the hanging belay at the bolts, we tie in, and eventually get down. Everyone is waiting at the cars and since it's rapidly approaching 110 degrees, we head for the pool at the motel. Alastair and I try to sleep while the kids play.
Around 5 I try to recruit climbers but everyone is having too much fun except Alastair. We head for Sail Away, which Alastair leads, and then Wild Wind. The sun sets and we head back.
My brother Jim and his daughter Catherine are now with us and they agree to adopt Eric and Jay for a day while Marti, Alastair, and I head for Taquitz. The plan is to bag the Open Book - a classic 5.9. Unfortunately, this route has been heavily promoted (Great American Rock Climbs, cover of R and I), so we figured we might end up in line. After the long, hot march to the rock we arrive to find a party up on the second pitch and a guy just off the ground. We looked around for his partner but after a while we saw he was doing a (very slow) roped solo! Fortunately, we convinced him (Jeff) that Scottsmen make fine climbing partners. The weather was absolutely perfect, so we waited for him to reach a stance and throw a rope to Alastair. Eventually, Alastair and Jeff joined forces and attacked the crux - a stemming corner with a large wedged block at the top. Once Alastair reached Jeff's stance, I led through the initial overhang. Jeff had avoided this on the left but that looked hard so I went for it. It turned out to be a really cool move but I made Marti suffer by placing the first nut in a tall-folks only placement. I waited for Alastair and Jeff to clear the crux and then finished the lead. The crux was quite short and well protected - no problems at all.
Alastair led off on the second pitch - a corner with a wide layback crack. He commented that he would have to run it out a bit (Jeff's rack didn't have much big gear) but he had no problems. When Marti arrived, I convinced her that if Alastair could lead it, she could too. Off she went, with beta from Alastair who was hanging under a huge roof at the top of the corner. Unfortunately, Marti used her #3 Camalot low on the pitch and when she arrived at the crux layback, she had to go for it just like Alastair had. She did fine and, just below the belay, got a piece in. As I followed, Alastair disappeared around the roof. The next lead starts with some nice 5.8 clearing the edge of the roof, but then the climbing gets much easier. I belayed just below a final overhang and Marti soon joined me. She led the last pitch. Just off my belay was a step or two of funky friction to get to an easy crack that led through the overhang. Beyond this, it was just a hike to the top. The route ends in the same place where Eric and I climbed to meet Marti six years ago when we were climbing with Mike Soo. Based on my vague recollection of the descent, we headed down and were soon back to the car.
The next morning Alastair and I went out to bag a few classics before leaving for the conference in San Diego. He led Heart and Sole (after making me clip the first bolt!) and then backed off Stick to What. I was able to lead it after a few falls - there was one really hard move at the first bolt that seemed a lot harder than 5.9. After that, there were no problems and the sun started to hit the rock. We headed back to camp and took off for the coast.
For the next four days, Alastair and I were holed up in a conference while Marti took the kids to the zoo, the beach, and finally Dizzyland. I was more than glad to avoid all of this. We did enjoy seeing many old friends at the conference: Mark and Melanie (with Ben - 9 months), Wendy and Debray (with Arun - 2.3 years), and Charles Consel. Finally, we headed to L.A. to meet the gang. Grandma had flown to San Francisco for a conference, Jim and Catherine had returned to Portland, and I had to pick up Jared at the airport. After a minor epic involving Unibomber threats and cancelled flights, we headed out for Lone Pine to meet Marti and the boys, Grandpa, Uncle Alan, and my brother Doug, who had driven in from Denver.
The plan was to bag Charlotte Dome. Seduced by the 50 classics, I convinced Jared and Alastair that this would be fun. Worried about crowds and permits, I had even told them we might have to daytrip it! As it was, we obtained a wilderness permit without a problem and intended to buzz to the base of the climb, camp, and then climb and hike out the next day. Marti would watch the kids. Uncle Alan was feeling sick but my dad and Doug decided to hike up to the lakes on the way in. We spent part of the morning organizing our gear and then headed to the Onion Valley trailhead.
There are two ways to get to Charlotte: over Keirsarge Pass from the east or up Bubbs creek from the west. Either way, it's a grunt. The western approach is long and hot and finished with a steep climb to the rock. The eastern approach is mostly trails and easy buchwhacking, but involves a pass at 11800. From the east, it's 5 miles to the pass, 3 more to Charlotte lake, and another 3 to the rock itself. We chose the eastern approach mainly because I didn't want to drive all the way around west. I wanted to visit places on the east side of the range (including buzzing up Whitney) instead of the other side where we had been many times before.
What I hadn't counted on was the amount of snow still on the mountains. It was almost July, but the snowline was around 10000'. This meant that most of the hike would be on snow. We were poorly equipped for snow travel: I had axes and gaiters, but only Alastair had decent boots. I was in my `macho' tennies, liberally smeared with snowseal; Jared had similar footgear. Only Jared had sunglasses, so Alastair and I bought some cheepos in Lone Pine.
At the trailhead, things didn't look so bad. Jared was really excited by the high peaks all around and was eager to go on his first alpine climb and first bivy. Waving goodbye to Marti and the boys, we stomped off towards the pass on the initially dry trail with our heavy packs. The views were spectacular and we were all in high spirits.
At the first lake, about 2 miles up, we stopped on a rock to eat and relax. Above, the trail was buried in snow and we decided to put on gaiters and get out the axes. While we hung out, Grandpa and Doug came by - they had made it a little higher but had to turn back in the snow. They told us that it was solid snow from this point on. We hoisted our packs and began to trudge up the soft snow. The trail was no longer visible but there were lots of footprints to follow. We met other parties from above that all had snowshoes dangling from their packs - we hoped they weren't manditory!
As we neared the pass, Alastair started to slow down a bit. He had never been to altitude before and was feeling the effects of the thin air. Eventually, we reached the top of the pass and regrouped. The last slope to the pass was long and exposed - we were glad we had the ice axes with us.
At the top of the pass we met a party of backpackers coming over from the other side. They had showshoes but said we should do OK without them. Charlotte lake seemed a long ways away. The trail was dry for a few hundred feet and then it was back to snow. We followed the other party's tracks and countoured over to a bench above the valley. Charlotte lake is in the next drainage north - to avoid losing elevation a trail stays high on the right of a frozen lake to small saddle. We could see a small section of the trail ahead where it had melted out and we headed for that.
The going was much slower than we had anticipated. The snow was soft and wet - our feet were soaked. We didn't posthole in all the way very often, but when we did it was exhausting. The weather had been deteriorating: a light rain fell but the blew over; clouds filled the sky. It had been generally fair but the high peaks seemed to attract afternoon storms. Still, it was late in the day and we noted that there was plenty of time to climb before the weather blew in.
After crossing the exposed part of the trail, we lost the trail again and started heading cross country to the lake. It was obvious that the lake was as far as we were going to make it and we felt the approach the next day would go quickly since our map showed a fairly flat valley between the lake and the climb. Also, the map showed a ranger cabin at the lake. We wondered if it was open!
Finally Jared and I arrived, tired and wet, at the lake. It was getting dark and obviously time to camp. Jared looked for the cabin but couldn't find it anywhere. We managed to find a small dry spot to pitch the tent and sacked out for the evening. While the hike had been more than we expected, we weren't in bad shape and were ready to climb the next day! One nice thing about the snow was that there were no bears around - no problem leaving the food in the tent with us.
The next morning, we jumped out of the tent when we saw sun on the peaks over the lake. Leaving in a hurry, I neglected to put the fly over the tent. Just past the campsite we found the ranger cabin - Jared had missed it the night before. The door was open but nobody was home. We still had not seen the rock but the route to it was obvious - follow the valley down from the lake. The snow was well frozen and we made rapid progress. Finally, about 3/4 mile from the lake, we finally saw the dome!
Alastair stopped for a picture while Jared and I moved on, not realizing he had stopped. I was worried about the river we had been following - we had crossed to the side opposite the rock just below the lake and I could see that the snow thinned out ahead. I decided to cross back as soon as possible to the drier side and to avoid a wetter crossing down below. I abruptly turned right and headed for the water. Soon, I found an island in the stream with relatively easy crossings on either side. Before Jared crossed, I asked him to wait for Alastair. He waited, hiked back a bit and called, and then came back to tell me we had lost him.
The last thing I wanted to do was spend all morning trying to get back together. The base of the rock was the obvious place to go so Jared and I carried on without Alastair. Unfortunately, crossing the stream was a big mistake. Instead of frozen snow, we were in an endless swamp left by the recently melted snow. This slowed our progress and we wasted a lot of time looking for a good route through places where none was to be found. We completely gave up on keeping our feet dry and trudged through with damp shoes. About a mile below the crossing, we came to a large meadow. The snow on the other side had diminished and there was a large rock next to the stream. Unfortunately, it was on the other side or we could have used it to jump across so we continued on our side. Slowly, the ground dried out and we started to climb out of the valley across a manzanita covered slope to the rock. Following deer trails, I noticed some footprints - maybe Alastair was ahead of us! As we neared the rock, one last suprise hit us: another roaring stream. After fooling around looking for a dry crossing, we finally settled for a place where it was only up to our knees. Since the creek was dropping at a 45 degree angle, it was still quite gripping. FINALLY - we were at the rock! And there was Alastair! He had cruised down easy snow while we were slogging in the swamps and jumped the stream at the rock in the meadow. While crossing the manzinita to the rock, Alastair ran into a bear. Both of them turned and ran - the bear up a tree and Alastair up the hill. After a moment, he realized he wasn't being pursued and stopped for a photo of a treed bear. Jared and I never saw it. When we had his pictures developed, there was indeed a small furry spot in the tree that may have been a bear (or a large squirrel!). Alastair has vowed to buy a telephoto lens.
It was now 9:30 - quite a bit later than we had hoped. As we studied the rock, we saw another party ahead of us, about a pitch up! Damn!!! They must have taken the other approach. Oh well - nothing to do but get in line.
It was time for a fateful decision: do we carry packs or not?? Weather looked good, we had a forecast for hot, dry weather, and nothing had moved in yesterday until 3 or 4pm. Let's go naked! No packs!! We changed shoes, racked up, and I started a long traverse over to the base of the route. Since our hiking shoes were soaked, we placed our gear out in the sun to dry off during the climb. I brought out my secret weapon: dry socks! Just the thing to get us up the route!
Seems like the other party was a little lost. The route starts way left on easy rock. They had jumped into a line of grooves that led directly to the upper part of the route and looked much harder than the regular start. Alastair and Jared were quite a ways behind, but I decided to put on the rope and solo the first pitch while I waited. The climbing was easy and this worked just fine except ... Alastair and Jared thought I was under the other party somewhere. They were looking for me around to my right while I sat on a ledge waiting for them. Eventually, we got together again (after losing some precious time, though) and we started climbing for real.
Although we were a party of three, we were able to keep moving quite fast. I would usually start each lead solo while the third man was climbing. I could usually get 30 or 40 feet up before I needed a real belayer. The climbing was usually moderate and the rock was good. The crux pitch is 3 or 4 pitches up and was about the only really memorable pitch on the route: a nice crack up a bulge. This was 5.7 and I did some wild stems between the crack and knobs on the right. Jared tried to duplicate my technique and popped off while beating up on a nut from a stem position.
Since our first pitches were easy, we were soon above the other party. They seemed totally lost and were making a huge traverse across the nose of the buttress. After a couple of completelely horizontal pitches, they arrived at the top of our first pitch and disappeared back to their tent at the base of the rock.
As we got higher, the cracks petered out and the rock became more polished. I gave Jared a lead and, after doing some nice runout face climbing, couldn't figure out where to go. From below, I was sure he should go right. He wanted to go up and left, but didn't want to commit. Eventually, he set up a belay and I took over. For whatever reason, I was sure we should be around to the right. The traverse was a little tricky but I had a good nut in and went for it. I landed in an area of the rock with deep, water polished, grooves everwhere. The problem was that these didn't have cracks in the back very often and I had to make some long runouts. Finally, I found a stance with a few OK nuts and brought up the others. Above, the furrows grew deeper but still lacked much pro. With some more traversing and long runouts, I finally reached a nice ledge below what appeared to be the final wall. I have no clue whether we were on route or not - this corresponds to what thay call the furrow pitch in the 50 classics but it seemed more runout than they described. The only other line would have been left where Jared had been, but that looked just as runout. One of the problems with this climb is that the line is very indistinct: the nose of the rock is hundreds of feet wide and the route wanders a lot.
At this point, the clouds were gathering and the weather began to look threatening. Nothing to do but keep going as fast as possible! The nose of the buttress was getting more distinct and was about 40' left at this point. I traversed and landed on easy chickenheads. Looks good! Maybe this is the top! No such luck - the top of the pitch is a big ledge below the REAL last pitch! I can see the chickenheads pictured in the book above me. As I start to belay, it begins raining. The others climb as fast as possible and soon we're all together on a large ledge in light rain and occasional hail. There's some lightening, but it's not too close.
Ever since leaving the car, Jared's attitude has been steadily deteriorating. He wasn't happy about the slog to the lake, was worried about separating from Alastair, and hated the swamps. On the climb, he's totally unimpressed with the route. The rain makes his misery complete - he's ready for the helicopter!
The immediate plan is to get out of the rain. Not having rain gear, we start looking for shelter. I traverse left on the ledge to a large flat boulder that looks like it has room underneath. As I step onto it, the whole thing starts to move and I jump back. Not there! Next, I go down a bit to a chimney filled with chockstones. I can just squeeze in to a dry spot, but it only holds one. We're all getting sick of this and I crawl out again. Above, the final pitch is too wet to climb but there's an easy crack about 50' left leading up. I lead up the wet rock and belay on a ridge leading to the top. Alastair (who enjoys rain!) leads on up to the summit and Jared and I follow.
The book makes the descent sound really simple: follow a 3rd class ridge to easy slabs. Well, in the rain with lightening striking across the valley, it turned out to be far more challenging then the climb! The problem was that thick black lichens covered the rocks. When wet, this was as slick as snot in our rock shoes. The exposure over each side was tremendous; we stayed roped up and carefully picked our way along the ridge until, near the end, we encountered a huge, dry cave under a table-like rock. We spent a long time here, discussing the wretchedness of the weather, the route, the campsite, and even the whole trip (after all, Jared had just joined us!). Our one hope was to get back to the ranger cabin and light a friendly fire to dry everything off. Eventually, it was obvious the weather wasn't getting any better and we would have to get moving again. A few more scary parts and we were on the slabs. At least the slabs were mostly free of lichens, but going was still slow. It was steep enough to require a spiderman-like four point technique in the rain. Eventually, we reached our packs where we had left everything out to dry - Ha!! At least now we had some extra clothing - even though it was wet, it felt good. We watched small rivers of water running down the rock and, changing to soaked hiking shoes, we waved a fond one-finger farewell to the dome.
There was absolutely no question of hiking back to the car. At this point, it looked like it would take effort just to get back to the tent before nightfall. Crossing the stream by the rock was no better than on the approach and we thoroughly soaked our legs in the process. From here, there was some easy hiking to the place where we joined the stream coming down from the lake.
Since Alastair had such an easy time on the hike in, it seemed logical to cross the stream now and hope the other side was good. We would like to have crossed where Alastair had, but his was a one-way crossing. Rather than take our changes (Jared and I had scouted that part of the stream thoroughly) we decided to cross at the first opportunity. Soon, Alastair and I found a wet log leading across the water. We both crossed successfully but Jared would have none of it. We decided to proceed upstream on our opposite sides until he found a crossing more to his liking. After hiking up a while, ocasionally shouting back and forth with Jared, we lost sight of him and decided to stop and wait. Soon, we heard cursing behind us and up walked Jared - soaked from head to toe. He had tried to jump, but fell a little short and plunged into the icy water. He got out without any problem, but was now even more miserable. Alastair and I forced him to eat some raisens to avoid becoming hypothermic.
We were still below Alastair's jumping rock; this part of the hike was new to all of us. While the ground on the opposite shore was a bit boggy, our side turned out to be a maze of avalanche debris and downed logs. Far worse than the bogs, this was tiring and very slow. Just as we reached the meadow where Alastair had jumped, the sun poked out of the clouds. Just ahead, it bathed the snow in evening light. We were just barely in the shadow of the dome. I hurried to catch one last golden ray, but it was too late - the sun sank behind the rock and we were destined to be in the shade till the next morning.
From here to the tent was an easy, but exhausting, slog in the rain-softened snow. Alastair was still feeling the altitude and started to fall behind. Jared was swearing to never climb rock again and had vowed to hop on the first east-bound plane out of Bishop as soon as we returned. Jared had lived such a sheltered life - three years of climbing and he had never before experienced the joys of an epic!
Just before total darkness, we pulled into the lake. The cabin was now firmly locked - a ranger had visited that day and changed it from winter mode (open to travellers in need) to summer mode (locked tight when nobody is home). Damn. Oh yeah, and we hadn't put the rain fly on the tent. Actually, the inside of the tent was only damp, not soaked. Jared's bag was the worst - his was down. A while later Alastair dragged in and we all huddled together for the night.
Tired as I was, it was almost impossible to sleep. My bag is a 3 season bag, and this was the 4th season. Worst of all, I had taken a big drink of cold streamwater just before going to bed. Try as I might to keep my hands and feet warm, I had a cold spot inside that just wouldn't go away.
At last the night was over. Unfortunately, our campsite was on the wrong side of the divide for morning sun, so we waited in the tent for photons to finaly arrive. Everything we had worn the provious was frozen solid: boots, socks, coats. Eventually Jared resolved to venture out and hunt for warmth. After walking out barefoot onto the cold ground, he found a pair of overmitts. Placing these on his feet, he was able to move around our small patch of dry ground and start organizing his stuff.
The sun had hit the camp, but it was filtered through the trees. Alastair and I begged Jared, Lord of the Photons, to place our socks shoes, and coats on sunlit rocks to warm them up. Eventually, we all emerged from the tent and set up a clothesline to dry our gear.
Unfortunately, I knew that the problem on the hike back would be sun, not cold. We eventually packed up and started hiking over the frozen snow. The ranger had left tracks from the day before - these led to the saddle above the lake where we could see the pass in the distance. Although we had only about 1600' of elevation to gain, in our wasted condition this was a long ways! The snow grew soft and mushy, further slowing travel. No clouds at all - it would have been a superb climbing day. The views were spectacular - snow covered mountains and high waterfalls in all directions - but we had ceased to care. The final hill up to the pass was the cruelest bit of all and we arrived exhausted.
The descent to the car was almost fun. Jared and I ran, plunge stepping, all the way down the snow-covered part of the trail. We even met a party coming up on skis. Jared recovered some of his good humor and we arrived at the car wasted but not totally dead. I was worried about Marti and thought she might have driven up to find us but there was nobody to meet us at the car. Alastair soon arrived and we zoomed down to Bishop. The plan had been to camp just out of town, but we all agreed that a motel was needed that night. Dropping Alastair and Jared off at a motel, I headed for the campground to find Marti. Our site was marked by a package of diapers by the road but I neglected to look at the bulletin board where Marti had left a message. I left here a note and motel key, then headed back to town. Our plan was to attack the local Sizzler and make the sorry they had ever advertized `All You Can Eat'. As we started dinner, Marti and the boys arrived. While I was at the campsite, she had gone into town to ask the sheriff what to do if we didn't return. Fortunately, they hadn't started a search and all was well again.
While I had originally hoped to bag Whitney, this was no longer an option. We were all sick of slogging through the snow, and we were dying at 11800 feet - 14000 feet would certailly finish us off! We decided to take a day playing tourist. We drove off to Mammoth, hoping to catch Devils Postpile. Unfortunately, this was still snowed in, so we visited a bunch of the local volcanic features instead. We still hoped to do a little climbing: that evening we decided to head for the Buttermilks, a famous bouldering area right near our campsite.
Unfortunately, the turnoff to the rocks was no longer marked and we drove right by it. After spending a long time lost, we found the correct road and made for the rocks. This place is amazing! The best bouldering I've ever done. Plus, the kids loved it. Eric and Jay were both finding problems they could do. Unfortunately, after an hour or so night fell and we had to retreat.
The next morning, Jared and Alastair and I decided to do something short while Marti packed up the camp. Instead of going to the Owen's Gorge, we decided to head back to the Buttermilks again. Just before we left, a guy from a campsite just up the road came up and asked for a ride into a small town nearby - his truck had broken down. Why he headed straight for me past a bunch of other campsites I have no idea - maybe I've got "sucker" written on my face. Anyway, I agreed and as we left we stopped at his campsite to pick him up. This dude was plastered! We had a totally incomprehensible conversation all the way to his place, dropped him off, and made for the rocks. Jared (who is NOT Mr. Congeniality) wasn't really happy about this but we told him we need to aquire some karma after the Charlotte dome epic.
The karma transfusion paid off - we had a really great morning bouldering. I felt great and was soloing to the top of all these huge boulders. The other guys thought I was crazed, but I was feeling really solid.
The plan for the rest of the day was to hit Yosemite and climb in Toulaume. The drive took longer than we expected and the road up the pass was very crowded - it was the 4th of July weekend and they had only had the pass open for a couple of days. Around lunchtime, we arrived at the parking lot near Daff dome. While the rest of the gang ate lunch, Jared and I buzzed up to do West Crack (5.9-). I had heard lots of good things about this climb and was eager to do something classic. There was a party up on the second pitch but the first pitch was free. This is the crux of the climb, but it turned out to be a very well-protected boulder problem leading to a fairly easy but extremely enjoyable crack. Unlike the day on Charlotte, the weather was absoltely perfect and Jared was having the time of his life. After we reached the belay, the rest of the gang arrived. Alastair climbed the first pitch and then lowered back down to allow Marti to climb the route while he watch the kids. Jared led the second and third pitch as one, having a blast all the way. The pitch starts with Gunks-like overhanging jugs and then turns into an offwidth that you can climb via a crystal-covered rib on the right of the crack. Marti and I both enjoyed the pitch and I led the final hard pitch - a rounded finger crack. Marti finished the climb and we all joined her on the top for a really excellent view. We were all impressed by the glacial erratic, a large round boulder poised at the edge of the face, that marked the top. We took a picture of Jared (smiling even!!) on it to freak out his parents. I could hear Jay screaming from the top but fortunately Marti didn't notice. When we arrived at the base, Jay and Eric were playing quietly. I asked Alastair and he told me he had offered Eric a Slurpee if he could get Jay to quiet down. Eric got Jay interested in playing in a small stream and suddenly he was a happy dude again. While we climbed, Alastair had Eric tunnel into a snowback at the base of the climb and now Eric showed off his new fort.
Both Alastair and Jared wanted to see the valley so we hustled off for the valley floor. The trail down to Yosemite Falls from the road is a neat way to first enter the valley and we planned to have Jared and Alastair hike down. At the trailhead, there was snow everywhere and we were told the trail was in bad shape to we gave up and drove in. We wasted far too much time hiking to see a single sequoia and then hit the valley about an hour before sunset. At least the crowds were gone! The falls were trememdous but the views were obscured by campfire smoke. It turns out that Dave Youkie was there in camp 4 at the time but we didn't look for him. After dinner, we drove back to Lee Vining and camped out in the middle of nowhere.
The next day we stopped at a huge new visitor center beside Mono Lake and played tourist. We then headed for our final California destination: Lovers Leap. We arrived fairly late in the day - after noon - and decided to head straight for our main objective: The Line (5.9). Back in JTree, Alastair had purchased `Great American Rock Climbs' and this climb was featured. Very fortunately, the route was open and we jumped on the first pitch. This pitch was quite nice - well protected and sustained around 5.7 - 5.8. Like the gunks, climbing at the leap is often easier for tall dudes and I didn't really find anything too hard. Jared took the second pitch and I got to pull the final overhang. All in all, a very enjoyable route. Certainly a much more pleasant experience that Travellers had been many years ago. This was to be Alastair's final climb of the trip - the next morning he had to fly back to New Haven.
We had hurried up the last bit of the climb so that I could grab Marti for a speed ascent of Surrealistic Pillar (5.7). The sun was already low, but I told Alastair and Jared to grab the kids and Marti and I went for it. It turned out to be a very enjoyable route, with lots of cool dikes to monkey up. We just made it down before dark and met everyone at Lake Tahoe.
We split up that evening with Jared taking Alastair to the airport while Marti and I crashed in a motel with the kids. The next day we joined forces again (minus Alastair) and sped off to Salt Lake. That evening we stayed with Al Davis, an old climbing buddy who teaches at the CS department. Al lives way up in the hills - almost 45 minutes from SLC. Since Al lives right on the Weber river, we decided to start the next day kayaking. The river was very high, but the run we were doing presents no serious high water dangers - the whole thing was washed out under big waves. The was Jared's first time kayaking and he had no problems at all - since it's a 2 person kayak he always had an experienced paddler with him. Eric liked it too and got a lot of face-fulls of water.
That afternoon, we drove over to Little Cottonwood for some climbing. We headed for the shady area of the cliffs, hoping to take Eric up Perhaps. Unfortunately, Perhaps was occupied so we forced Jared to be a hero on the Green A. The only problem with leading the Green A is that the crack only takes really small wires. Jared whined a little, but eventually arrived at the anchor. He cleaned as he lowered and since Perhaps was available we all went over there.
Marti led the first pitch of Perhaps (5.7), having no problems at all. Eric went second and did a great job. He hesitated on the traverse a little but made it under his own power eventually. Since everyone else was climbing, Jay wanted to do some too. I put his rock shoes on and pointed him up some friction problems on the huge boulders that sit below the cliff. This was a mistake since I didn't have my rock shoes on and he started climbing things I couldn't do in my tennies. Eventually, I got him off the rock long enough to change shoes and we spent the rest of the evening watching Eric, bouldering, and throwing pebbles. Jared took the layback pitch; Eric followed with a back belay from Marti. Again, he was climbing well and roared right up the climb. He decided he was big enough to rappell instead be being lowered and did so with no complications. All in all, this was Eric's best climbing of the trip!
While on Perhaps, we were watching some guys on Gordons (5.9+). Jared was very impressed with this line and the next morning Marti and Jared got up to have a go at it. Unfortunately, this climb gets the morning sun and it was rapidly getting hot. They almost wimped out, but when the kids and I arrived at the parking lot I looked up and watched Jared pull the undercling just below the crux. At the crux, Jared took a short fall but then finished it off on the second try. Instead of hiking back to the route, the kids and I went to Lisa Falls and everyone played in the water for a while. We returned and met Jared and Marti hiking back and we all drove south. We stopped to kayak on the Green and then arrived in Moab that evening to do the Titan.
After climbing the Titan, Jared and I were totally fried but Eric was still full of energy. We dumped him off in the river with Marti and drove down to the beach at the takeout to play with Jay. We picked up some hitchhiking boaters who were using these silly sit-on-top kayaks. They had no clue what they were doing and got toasted in Cloudburst. Eric and Marti had a crisis of their own - Eric kept yelling at her for not hitting the biggest waves. Finally, Marti got fed up and told him he could paddle his own way down the river. Eventually, they worked things out and were happy again when they found us at the beach.
We stayed in a motel that evening and were ready for the big drive to Denver the next day. We stopped in Frisco to visit Dennis and Julie Boyd and then through the tunnel to Denver. For the rest of the trip, we stayed at my parent's house.
The next morning, we dumped the kids and Marti, Jared, and I headed out for Eldo. Our start wasn't as early as it might have been and when we arrived the Bastille Crack was already full of climbers. Walking around the corner, we noticed that the West Buttress was ours for the taking. We hustled up the talus and Jared tied in, eager for his first lead in Eldo. I hadn't climbed this route for many years but the line is pretty obvious. Jared had no problems with the initial traverse (which scares me a lot!) and clipped into the two pins at the crux. I'm taking photos while Marti belays. As I wander around, I roll a rather large loose rock toward Marti but miss her.
After playing with the move for a while, he finally went for it. He reached a good hold above the pins, then tried to continue straight up a very thin crack. Reaching for a hold, he suddenly pops off. Marti was pulled tight against her anchor as Jared dropped almost 20 feet. As usual, falling didn't scare Jared - it just pissed him off. Back again, he gets to the same place and takes the same fall. At least he's not hitting anything on the way down. Third try: this time for sure! Well, no - he takes yet another fall; at least I have the camera ready and catch him in mid-air. Jared is ready to give up on the lead so I tie in. The move that had been so hard for him (the one before he fell) is trivial for us tall folk. With my hands above the pins, I look left and see more holds. This leads to easy ground and eventually the belay. Looking in the guidebook later, we see Jared has been on a 10b. With a toprope, he has no problems following. The second pitch is an evil offwidth - layback. I've never done it before and I send Jared up. He whines a bit, but pulls it. Marti follows and has a harder time. She is determined to make it, though, and finally pulls through. Her plan is simple: if she can do it, I have no excuse to do something sleazy like step right to Hair City (much easier for me!!). The rope pulls tight and it's my turn. I hate it! I have to place my feet next to my hands while in a sleazy lieback position - not a tall person sort of move! Marti and Jared are shouting encouragement from above: "Suffer, John, Suffer!". "You made us do it, now it's YOUR turn!". After a few falls I decide there must be a better way for us mutants. Eventually, I use a combo of offwidth, long reach, and stemming (but NO layback!) and I'm up. Marti and Jared are unnaturally pleased by my troubles.
The sun is now on us and rather than finish the route, we rap off. Hmmm - how about the Bastille crack? We take a look and it's open! The only party is up at the top of the second pitch; it's all ours. Marti decides to lead. We combine the first two pitches to save time. Above us, strange things are going on. A climber is lowered 50 feet from the belay and then attacks what appears to be a stuck nut. Oh well - they are still way ahead of us.
Marti is cruising. Her hands fit the crack perfectly and she buzzes the crux. She sets up just below the other pair of climbers while they start on the third pitch. Jared and I soon follow. The two girls ahead of us take a long time on the third pitch; we're right on their tail as Jared leads it. Jared is exceedingly polite, giving advice to the follower as he climbs. It's soon obvious we're behind the party trying for the worlds slowest ascent. As we all arrive at the base of the fourth pitch, they are just starting the lead it. I waste time looking for an easy way to bail off but it doesn't look worthwhile. We wait and wait; finally they are out of the way. I lead and set a belay just below them. I observe that Marti can climb this pitch faster than they can move gear from the follower to the leader for the next one. When Jared arrives, we send him up the 5.7 variation, enabling us to pass the toads. We all finish at about the same time. They ask for help with the descent but we politely say `just follow us' and take off. They probably had to wait for the next party to show them the way!
What would otherwise have been a fast and pleasant climb has taken all afternoon. We're ready to head back home. That evening, I finish calling all the local climbing buddies and develop a plan for the rest of the trip. It's climb, climb, climb except for the next day: we join my Dad's CMC hike for a while and then we take the kids to the Georgetown Loop, a train ride and mine tour. Eric and Jay are a little slow even for a class A hike and we turn around after a mile or so. Little Fellow enjoyed having us along, though. Jared is not having fun being a tourist but he suffers in silence. After the train and mine tour, we head for Colorado Springs to meet Dave and Cynthia in the Garden of the Gods.
I've only climbed a few routes in the Garden and I head for one I know is good: Mighty Thor (5.10). I put Jared on the rope and off he goes. Although originally enthusiastic, he is soon distressed by the soft sandstone. Not another Titan-like pile of garbage! After the first bit, he settles down and sort of, maybe, has fun. Dave arrives, then Cynthia. Everyone takes a ride; Marti and Cynthia turn back at the crux (which is much easier when you're tall!). On the slab next to the route, Jay does some climbing too. Eric is on strike and just watches. We're amused by the large crowd of tourons that gathers to watch Jared - I sneak a picture of them as they gape at the climbers.
There's still a little light and I talk Cynthia and Jared into Montezuma's Tower. Even though we're fast, the sun is down and we rap in the growing darkness. After dinner with Dave and Cynthia, we take off.
The next day, it's just Jared and I. We storm up to Lumpy Ridge, ready to grab as many classics as possible. There are numerous new `No Parking' signs up outside the main lot. As we drive up, a bunch of tourons tell us there's no parking and we should just go away. Good Karma prevails and just as we drive in, someone backs out and we get a primo spot! We make for the Book and start with Loose Ends (5.9). Unpacking Jared's gear, we find a large rock in his pack. It's not local - looks like Eldorado sandstone. Suddenly I remember - I had rolled a rock while Jared was on the Bastille and it must have gone into his pack - hole in one! (Really!!). He's been carrying this 5 pound rock ever since without noticing!
It's been a while since I've led the first pitch and it's thinner than I remember. I slowly slime up it and belay. Jared follows and decides that Lumpy is cool. The next pitch is quite easy up until a short but very difficult thin crack. I can't see Jared but hear some naughty words and then the rope pulls tight. His fall is 10 - 15 feet, mostly stretch. He tries again, pulls the move, and belays. I follow and find the one move awfully hard (I'd say solid 10!).
The next pitch is a long layback. I'm a notorious layback weenie but it turns out to be pretty easy. Jared follows and leads through to the cave. I always relish having some new sucker lead the cave. Jared plays with the first move a bit, commits, and gets gripped. I yell `The Butt Hold! The Butt Hold!'. Sure enough, his rear end is just inches from an unseen ledge on the wall behind him and he can sit down in the middle of the crux for a rest. After this, he finishes with no problems.
The weather is going bad and it starts raining lightly. Bummed out, we head back down. I want to look at Climb of the Ancient Mariner (5.10) so we take the scenic route down. When we reach the the point where the trail to the Bookend takes off from the regular trail, I suddenly remember I had dropped a nut to the base of the climb! Jared offers to run back up and get it so I wait. As I sit and watch the clouds, it seems to be getting nicer. Soon, Jared returns exhausted (he really did run!) and I announce we can climb some more. We trudge all the way back to the bookend and suit up again. Jared is tired from his run and less than enthusiastic. I solo a ways up and anchor in; Jared follows and starts the first lead. Clipping the first bolt is the crux but eventually he gained the slab and climbed delicately to the belay. As I joined him, it started raining again. This was it - time to go down again.
The next day, Marti was feeling out of it so Jared and I joined Mark Abbott (the Ab) in the South Platte. The plan was to hit Acid Rock - a new place for me! Dave Youkie told us that he really liked some of the routes up there and our Great American Rock Climbs also mentioned it. The approach was longer than it looked from below. We skirted Helen's Dome on the left and kept climbing and climbing until we thought we had missed the rock completely. Suddenly, we were there. The route that caught our eye was a thin crack called Charley Don't Surf (5.10d). I grabbed the first pitch, a really nice 5.8, and belayed on anchors off to the right of the crack. The next pitch was the crux: a short vertical wall split by the very thin crack. Jared decided to give it a go and buzzed up to the crux with no problems. Here, however, he slowed down considerably. The pro was good, but small: nothing but RP's. Jared took a bunch of short falls, getting madder and madder. The weather started to look bad so we sent the Ab to have a look. Mark did an outstanding job, clinging to microscopic crystals. After the crux, he ran the rope out to a belay and brought me up. It started raining - Jared bailed out while Mark was leading. I followed but had no chance at doing the crux clean on the wet rock. Pulling on the gear, I arrived at Mark's stance and we started a hasty retreat. Soon, we joined Jared and Dorie (Mark's dog) in a spacious cave below the climb. It rained long and hard but we were quite comfortable. Jared was very impressed by Mark's raingear and general preparedness - quite the opposite of me! Eventually, the rain let up and we headed back to the cars.
Our plan was to go to Sundance on Saturday but the forecast was so bad everyone dropped out. However, after sleeping in we looked out the window and the weather was great! We called the Ab and agreed to meet in Boulder Canyon. While waiting for Mark, Jared and I ran up to the Dome hoping to grab a quick classic. I had never done Gorilla's Delight so we soon found ourselves under the 5.9 direct start. This was cool - good pro and interesting moves. At this point, the Ab saw us and came up to join us. The next pitch climbs a slightly overhung dihedral and then crosses right to a crack which vanishes in a slab. A few friction moves finish the climb.
Jared stormed up the dihedral with sheer muscle power. Above, he first tried a 5.10 variation (by accident) and finally tried to figure out the crux. After a while, he came back down and I took a look. The diheadral was absolutely desparate but the crux seemed quite easy. After that, we decided to head for Castle Rock. I had never tried Jackon's Wall Direct (5.9) and was eager to have a go at it. Mark took the first pitch and had no problem with the mantle move. I followed and started the crux pitch. After some interesting flakes, the you land on a nice ledge with a dihedral above and left. After placing some fair (but not great) pro, I spend a long time diddling with the move. Unfortunately, I never really trusted the pro (a #1 Camalot and some RP's) enough to really commit. I kept getting about a foot below a good fixed pin and then downclimbing. Eventually, I whined for help and Mark and I swapped ends of the rope.
Mark liked the pro just fine and had the balls to just do it. After clipping a good pin and another good piece, he had to mantle delicately up onto a sloping ledge. From below, this looked trivial! Next, he went up an easy ramp to an old bolt, clipped it with a long sling, and stepped down. The next move is the crux: a traverse left on slopey holds to a small stance. Mark worked on this for a long time, trying various hand and foot positions. Finally, he got the right sequence and was across. From here, he roared on up to the belay without stopping. After bringing Jared up the first pitch, I followed. The move I had backed off was scary, but not too bad. I should have gone for it!! The step up after clipping the pin, which Mark had make look so easy, was really hard for me. I fussed with it a long time before finally getting onto the ledge above. Mark's traverse, on the other hand, was absolutely trivial: I just reached all the way across! Mark told me I was missing one of the finest moves on the climb, but what the heck. From there, it was by no means trivial! A single old pin protects the rest of the pitch - I would have been gripped! Mark is my hero today. Jared follows without too much trouble and leads Jackson's Wall. This is funky but not too hard and we're up. It's late and we head for home.
The plan for Sunday is Sundance. We agree to meet at the parking lot at 7am. Unfortunately, this means getting up at 5am - gag! Forecast is a little iffy, but after yesterday we're no longer believers in the TV weatherdudes. Dave and Mark join Jared and I (Marti wants no part of the 5am start!); two ropes of two.
At least at 7am, you can park at lumpy! Still, there's a lot of cars in the lot. The big suprise for me is that the trail is pretty decent all the way to the rock. We're up there at 8:30 and there's already a ton of climbers. Jared and Mark go for Grapevine while Dave and I head for English Opening. We solo the first bit and rope up at an overhang. Dave takes the first pitch - a crack / dihedral. Mostly 5.7ish with a short 5.9 spot (good pro, though!). I get the second pitch - I run the rope out in the same dihedral. A very nice pitch - lots of stemming and knob climbing, fairly continuous 5.8 or so. I belay in a small alcove. The key to the route is to traverse right to Eumenidies. We have no clue where to do this, but just above looks promising. Dave climbs up, steps right, and starts pulling rope almost as fast as I can feed it. Sure enough, the traverse was easy (we were about 40' below the place where the dihedral curves left) and he was on an easy pitch of Eumenidies. Following, I looked back to see if the traverse could have been higher but it looked like we were on route, although the line in the book didn't match. Anyway, from here it's easy except for a short 5.8 overhang near the top. All in all, it was an OK route but not as nice as other Sundance routes.
Returning to the base, we saw no sign of Mark and Jared. The weather was iffy - huge black clouds would appear and then disappear but no rain fell. We wanted to do another route, but, unwilling to commit to anything long, we decided to look at a short (3 pitch) route near the nose: Jet Stream (5.10). The first pitch is an extremely thin crack just left of a easy gully. Dave went up and couldn't get anything in at all. I had a look and couldn't do any better. Eventually Dave put something in the groove on the right and moved up to where the crack might open up. No luck - about the only thing this crack was going to take was knifeblades. Dave stepped off right and came down - this route sucked (maybe the top part if OK but the first 30' was a total waste; very contrived too since there's easy stuff 5 feet right the whole time). As we bailed off, Jared and Mark appeared. The weather still looked wierd and we headed down. Jared didn't like Grapevine but Mark was happy enough. The rain never did show up - we could have bagged another route.
Monday we planned to meet Rob Kelman and Alan and Sarah Wendt in Vedawoo. Jared has a special place in his heart for Wyoming: as a child, he was forced to visit dude ranches there every summer (I Trot!) and over time developed a special hatred for the place. His opinion was "Wyoming Sucks" and he said this frequently. We got a fairly late start but eventually we were whizzing up I25 for Cheyenne. As we crossed the border I said "We're in Wyoming". From his car seat, Jay responded "Suck! Suck! Suck!". Thanks, Jared!
We pulled into Vedawoo around 11:30 and didn't see anyone else. I talked Marti and Jared into doing Straight and Narrow, a classic, but after hiking up with everyone we found the climb occupied. Bummed, we went back to the main cliff. My plan was to justify my recent purchase of a #5 camalot, as well as prior purchases of BigBro's and tube chocks, by climbing an offwidth. Also, Jared had never had the pleasure of a real offwidth so I felt it was time he knew the joys of wide cracks.
Right next to the picnic area is an absolutely beautiful crack called Mainstreet. It is 6 - 12" wide all the way up and overhangs a bit at the bottom. All of the routes in the area were full of wimpy climbers but this true hero route was ours for the taking.
Racking up all my big pro, we walked just a few minutes from the car to the route. I was obviously a tourist - I was not wearing tape or long pants for this climb. Jared approched the crack with resignation - I suppose he felt obligated to do the climb with me. I wish all my partners were this gullible (or maybe stupid!).
After scrambling up some initial easy ground, I found myself in the jaws of the offwidth. Reaching for my #5 Camalot, I was delighted to see that it fit perfectly. Backed up by an old bolt, it gave me confidence to attack the crux bulge. The climbing wasn't pure offwidth - I used crystals and knobs on the left wall while keeping my right side in the crack. After the initial bulge, the climbing eased up and there were plenty of rests. I used these rests to adorn the pitch with my treasured offwidth pro: bigbros, tubes, and that pesky #5 camalot which insisted (really!) on staying right next to me throughout the climb.
A bolt on the right about half way up looked like a nice place for a belay. Above, the crack widened and I decided to let Jared pull my BigBros so I could use them again up higher.
This was the moment of truth - Jared in his first real offwidth. I couldn't see him initially but I could hear the sounds of a titanic struggle. As he slowly pulled around the initial crux I finally saw that he was wearing nothing but his shorts! He had gotten warm at the belay and taken off his shirt - now he was regretting that decision. Not having the full body stealth rubber suit to loan him, I watched as he sacrificed layer after layer of skin to the rock gods. Puffing and panting, he eventually arrived at the belay. Obviously, this was the high point of his vacation.
Jared declined a chance to lead the next pitch (something about no knowing how to set tubes and BigBros - right ...) so off I led. This turned out to be much easier and we were soon on top. We rapped just as the first sprinkles of rain hit. This soon turned into a downpour and we jumped into the cars. Eric, with a big grin on his face, said "Daddy, did you know Jared was saying `Fuck' and `Shit' while he was climbing?". Obviously, we shouldn't be worried about what he hears in the movies if we're going to take him on climbing trips with us!
The rain ended our time at Vedawoo. Jared's physical injuries were pretty minor - no blood, just lots of small scrapes on his left arm, leg, and shoulder. Mentally, he seems to have developed an unnatural loathing of wide cracks. How odd.
Alan Wendt and his family had arrived just in time to see (and hear) our offwidth fun. Although they would have enjoyed some time on the rocks, we decided it was too wet to stay. We decided to stop by Horsetooth and go bouldering if the rain let up. Fortunately, the storms missed the area and we all played around on the overhangs. Jared loved it (maybe it was just getting out of Vedawoo!) and the kids all had fun too. After dinner with Alan and Sarah, we rolled back to Denver.
There were two `Grand Finales' planned to our vacation. For the climbers, it was to be the Yellow Spur. For the kids, WaterWorld. I talked Alan into taking the kids while I would take the climbers (what a deal!). After climbing, we would meet at Waterworld and I would resume me role as Dad.
We really worried about getting stuck behind toads on the spur, so an alpine start was in order. We arrived at Eldo around 7:15 and immediately noticed three other cars in the lot. "Great - only three parties ahead of us!" I declared and we started up the trail. We saw folks on the Bastille Crack - "Great - only two parties ahead of us!". As we hiked higher, we listened and watched, but saw no other climbers. It was ours! What a deal!
Jared was incredibly jazzed for this route. He wanted to redeem himself from all the pain and suffering (Charlotte, the Titan, Mainstreet) and have a totally fun day on a Jared-approved route. The first pitch was just his style: good pro, overhangs, and jugs. Leading almost as fast as we could feed the rope, he was soon at the belay. Marti and I followed - no problems. That set the pace for the rest of the climb: Jared led almost every pitch. He hardly ever stopped, even for pro: he was feeling too good to bother much gear beyond the fixed stuff. Below, one party walked all the way up, looked at us, and then silently walked right back down. Another party started while we were on the third pitch but were way ahead of them.
Marti led the fourth pitch and was feeling just as stoked as Jared. Instead of belaying at the base of the handtraverse (which I usually do to avoid rope drag) she zoomed up to the base of the crux - unfortunately with bad drag after the traverse. Jared hardly slowed down for the crux. Our goal was the 5.10 finish (which I had never done) - one of the bolts was new and he had no problems. I found the 5.10 headwall easier than the 5.9 below, probably because being tall is totally useless at the 5.9 crux where you use delicate footwork and sidepulls. After a couple of thin moves, I was able to reach right past the 5.10 crux. Marti had a much harder time on the 5.10 and took a small fall.
Jared ran up the final arete and was soon at the top with a huge grin on his face. Definitely the best climb of the trip from his viewpoint. We decided to rap down - it turned out to be a good decision. Arriving at the bottom, it was already threatening rain. Parties behind us were already starting to bail out. Although we had been climbing fast, there were three of us we had taked lots of pictures. Time was running out: we needed to get to Waterworld as fast as possible.
We arrived there about 1.5 hours late but had no problem finding Alan and the kids. Jay was cold and took off with Marti; Jared decided to stay and play in the water. It turned out to be a pretty cold afternoon with little sun. This kept the lines short but Jared was his old miserable self again. Too much fun in one day would have short-circuited his brain, so this was probably for the best.
That evening, we threw an open house / slide show for all our Denver friends. Everything was great except a demon from my past appeared: Ken Hoen (or however you spell it). I had been on a long bike ride with Ken back when I was in high school and I thought I had managed to avoid ever seeing him again. Ken and his brother are the most annoying people in the universe and they stayed for the whole evening, making really inane comments about the slides and telling everyone stories they didn't want to hear.
The next morning, we packed up and headed out for the new airport. Pretty cool place but way the hell out in the middle on nowhere. Jared's mom and Alastair met us at the airport and, after 4 weeks on the road, we were home. I was so wasted it was weeks before I started climbing again.